Rebound (Seattle Steelheads #1)(27)
“That’s what I’m here for.”
I started to respond, but the sound of a car engine raised my hackles. Only for a second, though—I knew Nathan’s car from a mile away, and this wasn’t it. “That must be the Mercer cops.”
Sure enough, two Mercer Island cops—Officers Hanson and DeSantis—came to the door, and I introduced them to Geoff. Hanson was pleasant enough, but DeSantis seemed edgy when she went to shake Geoff’s hand.
“A little out of your neighborhood, aren’t you?” She expertly toed the line between politely curious and subtly territorial.
“I just came from work and didn’t have time to change.” Geoff smiled as he shook her hand. “You two are in charge, and I’ll stay out of your way.” He nodded toward me. “I’m only here to give him some extra reassurance.”
Releasing Geoff’s hand, DeSantis eyed me, then him, lips pressed tightly together.
“I can still change into civvies,” Geoff offered. “If that would make the lines clearer.” Like Officer DeSantis, Geoff managed to sound pleasant and still inject a faint undercurrent of “I’m not here for a damned pissing match.”
They stared at each other, expressions oddly placid and somehow not. Jesus, cops were intense.
Officer Hanson cleared his throat, drawing both their attention. “I don’t think that’ll be necessary. We all know where the lines are.”
Geoff nodded, and if I hadn’t been watching his face just then, I wouldn’t have seen the almost imperceptible shift from pretending to be pleasant to actually being pleasant. A second later, DeSantis exhaled, and she made the same shift.
“Anyone want some coffee?” I asked, hoping like hell to break the remaining tension.
“Sure,” Hanson said with a cheerful smile.
“Yeah, thanks.” DeSantis still sounded annoyed, but apparently she didn’t turn down coffee either.
They sat down in the living room while Geoff came into the kitchen with me.
“I didn’t realize cops were so territorial,” I said under my breath.
“Eh, they usually aren’t.” He watched them as he spoke. “But it’s highly unusual and not exactly kosher for me to be here in an official capacity, so she’s probably just trying to be sure everything is by the book.”
I turned to him. “You’re not going to get in trouble, are you?”
“Nah. As long as I don’t go hands-on if anything happens, or try to take over the scene.”
“So…you won’t get in trouble?”
Geoff shook his head. “I’ll be fine.”
“Are you sure?” I really didn’t want Geoff getting in trouble for this, or even bending the rules, but I’d be the first to admit I was glad he was here. I trusted the other two cops to keep Nathan in line. But having Geoff here meant a degree of reassurance I desperately needed today. Even if there was nothing he could do except radio for backup if something went wrong, he was here. That was all I needed.
“Relax. I’ll be fine.”
“Okay. But I mean, if you—”
The growl of a diesel engine tickled the hairs on the back of my neck. I shuddered, and I had to clench my teeth against a wave of nausea as I said, “He’s here.”
The other two cops had apparently heard, because they were coming into the kitchen. They exchanged glances with Geoff, and something telepathic seemed to pass between them, prompting each to give a subtle nod of understanding.
Geoff turned to me. “Let’s go settle in somewhere. They’ll take it from here.”
I glanced at the other officers. DeSantis was looking out the window beside the front door, her expression deadly serious. Hanson gave me a reassuring nod, then turned in the direction his partner was facing.
When the door opened, the sound of Nathan’s voice made my skin crawl. I couldn’t hear him well enough to know what he was saying, but it was definitely him. He and the cops exchanged a few words. Then the three of them came through the kitchen—along with Nathan’s sister, Cindy—and went into the living room to start carrying things out. Neither of them looked at me.
I didn’t have to worry about Nathan wandering through the house and potentially stealing or destroying anything. Last night and this morning, I’d painstakingly gathered everything he might think to lay claim to, and I’d staged it all neatly in the living room like hockey gear waiting to be loaded on to a bus. Clothes were in stacked, labeled boxes. His books and video games were in plastic crates and reusable shopping bags. Every electronic, knickknack, framed photo, or scrap of paper had been arranged into crates, boxes, and bags; whatever containers I could get my hands on. Nothing was taped—I wanted him to be able to look through it all, and for the cops to be able to see that everything was intact and carefully packed.
So, ninety-five percent of today’s tasks meant carrying stuff in and out of the living room instead of people being all over my house.
I hoisted myself on to the kitchen counter. DeSantis stood in the doorway between the kitchen and living room. Hanson mostly hovered in the living room but occasionally helped Nathan and his sister carry larger things out to the U-Haul.
Geoff leaned against the counter beside me, arms folded across his chest. No one spoke at all, but every time Nathan passed through the kitchen, he fixed a murderous glare on Geoff. If it bothered Geoff, he didn’t let it show—he just met it with cool indifference and didn’t say a word. I wondered if he knew how much that was probably making Nathan’s teeth grind, or how much it amused me.